Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2) (16 page)

“How’s it going, Trace?” Mrs. Kirk asks as we take our seats in her office.

“Pretty good.”

She smiles. “You gave her another chance, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” I tell her everything that’s happened.

“Do you think y’all will work this time?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I think it’s good that she’s starting the process of getting back on track. You’re willing to stick with her through it, and that’ll help. I don’t want to dampen your optimism, but when your first big struggle comes, how the two of you handle it could speak volumes to whether y’all will last. However, it doesn’t set anything in stone. My point is that you both need to be aware of your reactions and if it’s helping or hurting. Communication is more important than usual for you two. I also think you need to make sure y’all have time for yourself as well.”

I nod in agreement.

“How have you been doing?”

“Fine for the most part. I’ve had some anxiety and my mood has sucked some, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“It’s good to hear that you’re confident you can handle it. I know we talked about potentially having you come see me every two weeks instead of once a week. However, I want to maintain our sessions. I think it’ll be good for you while you and Brittany are working out your kinks. I want to monitor you throughout it as well. Once you two are on solid ground, then we could extend the length between appointments. What do you think?”

“That sounds okay with me.” It’ll be good to have her to talk to if things do get rocky. I’ve gotten used to seeing her so often, too. Now, I understand Brittany’s anxiety when I suggested that she would be fine without sessions with me. However, I’m looking forward to when I can take that step and move to seeing her every two weeks.

Before I head home, I text Brittany about her day. It feels so damn good to be able to do that.

M
y life has been one long ride of ups and downs, but I’ve been going down for so long that it’s about damn time I start going up again. Hopefully. My appointment with Mrs. Potter is tomorrow and I’m a nervous wreck. Sitting at home, trying to find a new place to live, isn’t enough of a distraction. Usually, I would either seek sex, alcohol, or go to sleep. I promised I wouldn’t fall into old habits, though. I grab my phone and text Trace.

Me:
Can I come over? Please?

The one time I need him to immediately respond, he doesn’t! Five tortuous minutes pass before he texts me back.

Trace:
Come on over.

Those three words are as sweet as
I love you
right now. Things have been moving smoothly with Trace so far. He’ll text me to ask about my day and we talk about nothing in particular for a few hours. I’m supposed to trust him again and fight. Is texting and running to Trace allowing me to do that?

As much as I hate to admit it, there’s still a tiny voice in the back of my mind that’s nagging me, whispering that I shouldn’t trust him and place my shattered heart into his hands. The same hands that destroyed it in the first place. Thoughts like these are no good, and I try to push them from my mind for good once I pull into Trace’s driveway.

I hurry to the door, knock, and hear, “Come in!” That’s all the push I need as I open the door and step inside. At first, I don’t see Trace. Noises from the kitchen pull me in that direction. Trace is pulling out a pan from the oven.

“Sounded like you needed something to comfort you,” he says when I come up next to him to see about a dozen Ritz crackers slathered with peanut butter and topped with marshmallows that are a nice brown from the broiler in the oven. Tears start sliding down my cheeks from the sweet act as I remember our weekend away at the cabin. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Trace pulls me against him, his arms hanging around my waist and his chin resting on the top of my head.

“You didn’t make me cry. There’s just so much going on in my head that it had to come out somehow.”

Trace reaches out to pick up a cracker. “Here,” he says as he holds it up a few inches from my mouth. “Eat this before we talk.”

I lean forward and bite half of it. Just as good as I remember. As soon as I swallow it, Trace holds the other half at my lips. My mouth parts and he pops it in. Lily comes in through her doggie door, barking and rushing over when she sees me. I grab another cracker before I pet her. Trace steps away to grab two cans of Sun Drop from the fridge. I pull myself onto the counter, so I can keep eating. Trace hands me a Sun Drop and rests against the counter next to me.

“So?”

My eyes immediately water. Great. I’m back to crying over every little thing, even something so simple as a two-letter word. “Work was crazy today, I’m worried about moving, and I’m trying for a change. It’s hard and overwhelming when I feel like shit. I want to sleep
so
bad, Trace, or something equally not helpful.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Part of me already wants to give up. Fighting is harder than I remember.” A corner of my mouth lifts as I try to joke and lighten the heaviness of what I’ve said.

“When you see Mrs. Potter tomorrow, push her to get you an appointment this week. She has to be able to pull some strings. If she can’t, I can. I know plenty of great psychiatrists.”

Hopefully Mrs. Potter can send me to someone new. I don’t like the idea of Trace helping me with this. It’s too close to the same situation with Dr. Gunner.

“Or my therapist could do it,” he adds as if he can read my mind. “I don’t want you spending another week or longer like this. Not when you’re already struggling so much.”

“I’ll ask her.” I wipe a stray tear and grab another cracker to keep busy.

“How is apartment hunting going?”

I shrug. “I found a few places that seem decent, but you never know.”

“Call and schedule to see them. I’ll go with you.”

A surge of anger rises from nowhere. “Will you stop solving all of my problems so easily? None of this is easy.”

“Hey, I know this. All I’m trying to do is minimize it, remind you of solutions, and let you know I’ll be there to help. I don’t mean to make it sound easy.” His voice is so calm and understanding. How is that annoying?

I take a deep breath. “I know,” I reply softly. “Sorry. How was your day? Better than mine, I hope.” I finish off my delicious cracker as he talks.

“It was okay. Lily and I had just finished our walk when you texted me.”

“You’re walking her?”

“Yeah. She has too much energy, so that helps burn it off. It’s relaxing and peaceful.”

Two words that haven’t been associated with my life for a long time. It sounds perfect. “When do you usually walk her?”

“Sometimes after work, sometimes after dinner, depending on the heat. Why? Do you want to walk with us? Sometimes, exercise helps with all of this.” He taps my temple gently. “Though,” he continues with a bit of a smile, “exercise might be a bit of a stretch. It’s not even a brisk walk, but it could still help.”

“I think I will join you.”

We talk more about our days and the upcoming week while eating the rest of our treats. It feels good to have a simple conversation, but my energy is draining by the second. My attention span, my give a damn, and that feeling of life is all being sucked dry by depression and my growing anxiety over tomorrow.

“Go home, Britt,” Trace quietly orders me. “Go to bed and rest up for tomorrow. Plan for a date with me Friday, too.”

I should leave, go straight home, and climb into bed. But I don’t want to be alone yet. I don’t want my thoughts to take over all the space in my head until I can’t even think through the tangles and knots as they band together and dominate my mind. I’m not strong enough to deal with it. If weakness could be a strong suit, it’d be my forte. That thought brings another surge of tears.

“You’re a mess,” Trace whispers as he moves to stand between my knees and wraps his arms around my shoulders as I press my face into his neck with a small laugh.

“Thanks.”

“I love you, though.”

“Love you too.” I take a deep breath and sit up, causing his arms to fall and his hands to land on my thighs. “I think I’m okay now.” Far from okay, but better than I was. Hopefully, by tomorrow, I’ll be even better.

“It’s good to see you again,” Mrs. Potter says as we settle into our seats. “How have you been? Catch me up. We have plenty of time because my next appointment canceled, so don’t feel like you need to rush through it.”

I nod and begin recounting the highlights of what’s happened since I last saw her. I swear, I go through a box of tissues. It’s hard to get through it all, to realize just how bad things have been, and to think about the long road ahead of me. Mrs. Potter looks at me with pity many times throughout my story. Eventually, I finish and take a deep breath, wishing I had something to drink for my dry throat. Mrs. Potter steps out for a moment so the receptionist can go ahead and try to set up an appointment with a psychiatrist before the end of the week.

“It’s been a tough year for you. I’m happy you’ve decided to come back. It seems like you have a bit of a plan. I definitely want to see you once a week for a while. Try to get back into the habit of using the techniques you’ve learned for your anxiety. If it doesn’t help, we’ll come up with new methods. As for your depression, I think what you’ve done so far is good. Get out of the apartment, relax, have some me-time, even if that means spending it with Trace. Just do something for yourself that gets you out of the apartment. Don’t wallow in it. Fight. Once we get you on medication, hopefully that will help out as well. Is there anything in particular that you’d like to discuss more in depth?”

My hand makes a move for my wrist. I know this more because Mrs. Potter’s gaze drops than the fact that I noticed I did it. “How long do you think it’ll take before I trust Trace again?”

Mrs. Potter seems to take a moment to think about it. “I believe your heart already trusts him completely. It’s your brain that’s fighting him, which is fine. I can’t tell you how long it’ll take, but it will take time. If you two can’t work it out yourselves, feel free to bring him to a session. Or, if you’d rather see his therapist, that’s fine too. You seem a bit hesitant still about being with him again. I want to make a suggestion.”

My body tenses. “Which would be?”

“Stop thinking so much when it comes to Trace. I know it might seem crazy, especially given what he did and how it affected you, but you make it sound as if you’re both fully committed and willing to do whatever it takes to make your relationship work. That being so, fall in head first and learn to trust him again that way. If he catches you, then it’ll help rebuild the trust.”

All I can think about is what if he doesn’t?

By the time I get to Trace’s for our walk with Lily, I’ve repeated what Mrs. Potter told me so many times that it might as well be my new mantra. It’s actually made me feel better, too. There’s even a smile on my face! It’s a miracle! I knock on Trace’s door, hear Lily bark once, and then he opens it. She’s already attached to her leash. Trace looks hot in a pair of gym shorts and a white T-shirt.